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Story Notes:

[From The Chalet School and Richenda:

"Your case goes on the rack, Richenda, until we're well away from Victoria." She gave a sudden infectious gurgle as she added, "That's been the rule ever since Heather Clayton dropped hers between the platform and the carriage three terms ago, and there was a lovely performance before it could be fished up!"]

The man looked from the train to the platform, and thence to Miss Derwent, disapproval strong in his face. "She didn't ought to've done that."

Miss Derwent secretly agreed with this assessment, however she had been hoping for a more helpful response. With a glare that boded ill for Heather Clayton, who was standing rather sheepishly by her side, Miss Derwent returned to the fray. "Nevertheless, that is what has happened."

"Well, she didn't ought to have," the man repeated, casting his own baleful look at the unfortunate Heather.

"I'm well aware of that," the Chalet School mistress told him acidly. The fact that they appeared to be drawing a crowd was doing nothing to improve Ruth Derwent's temper. "At the moment, however, I wish to know how her case is to be retrieved."

The official seemed somewhat disconcerted by this demand. "D'you," he asked, with heavy sarcasm, "expect me to go crawling about under the train, looking for things dropped by careless girls?"

"I certainly expect you to do something about it," Miss Derwent snapped, as Heather Clayton did her best to make herself inconspicuous, "or find me somebody who can."



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